The flu and what I didn't do

I have a tendency to think rules and statistics don't apply to me. Not because I consider myself above others, but simply because I prefer to be an optimist and assume good things will happen, not bad.

Most times such positive thinking yields benefits. Recently, though, such positive thinking left me laid up and sick as a dog.

(Quick aside: As I pet my dogs yesterday morning while in my sickly state, I pondered that phrase, as my dogs are never sick. The phrase makes no sense.)

Anyway, what happened is this: For quite some time, I had it on my calendar to go visit Bubby and Mac at the end of January. Then, days before my visit, Bubby was confirmed as having the flu, and it was highly likely Mac would come down with it, too. The question arose regarding if I should cancel the trip, considering my MS and what exposure to the flu might do.

I chose to visit them anyway. I assured my daughter—their mother—there was no need to worry because I'd be just fine. And when Mac avoided the flu but came down with bronchiolitis during my visit, I again assured my daughter I'd be just fine.

And I was fine—while I was there. The day after I returned home, though, the super bugs from those little boys settled in, leaving me, well, sick as a dog.

So yesterday, in my sick-as-a-dog state, what did I do? Well, of all the things I should have done, here is what I didn't do:

• I didn't walk my dogs.

• I didn't write the book reviews I need to write.

• I didn't comment on the blogs I should have.

• I didn't complete three articles I was on deadline to write.

• I didn't shower until 4 p.m. (Though I did brush my teeth.)

• I didn't put on makeup nor do my hair after that shower.

• I didn't email sources for an article I need to write.

• I didn't respond to the gazillion emails I should have responded to.

• I didn't write the half-gazillion emails I should have written.

• I didn't read.

• I didn't write.

• I didn't even listen to any music.

What did I do?

I sat on the couch, wrapped up in an afghan with one of my cats, each of my (non-sick) dogs on their beds nearby and watched episode after episode of Downton Abbey—a show whose spell I didn't think I'd fall under but figured I'd see what all the hoopla is about.

What did I learn?

I learned that the rules and statistics do apply to me. Especially when it comes to catching the flu. Doubly that when it comes to being charmed by Downton Abbey.

(Though I've yet to learn why 'sick as a dog' is an acceptable phrase.)

photo: Marin-FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Today's question:

When were you last sick as a dog?

Short and sweet, plus the GRAND Social

When I visit my grandsons, I take far more photos than I could ever possibly get through sharing here on Grandma's Briefs.

In order to make use of a few in one fell swoop—and because he makes me smile—I'd like to start off your week with a trio of typical Bubby expressions.

He's a nut.

And I love him so.

Enjoy!

A whole new week starts with a whole new GRAND Social. Thank you for linking, reading, participating!

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• The GRAND Social linky is open for new posts through Wednesday evening, so please come back to see those added after your first visit.

• Looking for another grandparent linky? Be sure to visit Connie's Grandparent's Say It Saturday Link Party each Saturday (open to links through Monday nights).

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Thank you for participating in the GRAND Social!

Photo replay: Breathing easy ... sort of

Mac was prescribed several days of breathing treatments for his bronchiolitis, diagnosed during my visit last week. Here he has his first treatment, giving Mommy the thumbs up that he's doing okay with "Dino," the breathing mask. Only thing: Sweet guy's not yet got the thumbs-up gesture figured out.

Enjoy your Sunday.

Park and ride

The weather was cruddy during the majority of my visit to see my grandsons, bordering on monsoon conditions at times. Add to that the fact that Bubby and Mac were sick most of the time—Bubby recuperating from the flu and Mac flirting with the flu while dealing with full-blown bronchiolitis, as well—and it's clear why Gramma didn't get to play outside with her grandsons much in the past week.

My last full day there, though, the weather warmed up nicely and the boys felt better than they had since my arrival. We seized the opportunity to relieve our cabin fever by heading to the park just down the street—with Bubby leading the way on his first ride there without training wheels on his bike.

I was a little nervous at first, allowing my four-year-old grandson to ride his bike on the sidewalk. A sidewalk right next to the street. A street on which vehicles drive. And a street we needed to cross in order to get to the park.

Bubby did fantastic, though. He experienced nary a wobble along the way, and once at the park, my grandson relished the freedom—and pride in oneself—that only a training wheel-less bike can provide.

I'm so impressed with Bubby's riding skills. He is four years old, turning five in June. I don't remember exactly when my daughters learned to ride a bike, but I'm positive it wasn't at four. (I don't think they even had a bike at four!)

As Bubby said at the end of the video above: "This video is great!" It is exactly that, because he's such a great bicyclist.

Adding to the greatness is Mac's little voice saying "Gramma" in the background. You heard that, right? And Mac's achievement for the day: He went down the twirly slide all by himself for the very first time while we were there. And the second time, third time, and fourth time, too.

I'm telling ya, my grandsons are athletic superstars—even when not on their A-game and still recovering from the flu.

Today's question:

Who taught you to ride a bicycle?